You could go listen to live music. I love the energy of Joy Ike. She was in New York City on Friday night. I was supposed to be there too, reading poetry. I dressed in New York black, put a red ribbon at my neck. I dressed my girls up too. Black and red and dark blue jeans and onyx necklaces. And we were a trio, striding down Madison Avenue, laughing in the night.

"The sky is like a brown-purple painting," said my Eldest. "I've never seen it like that in all my life."

"Take a picture," pleaded my Youngest. I didn't want to stop and maybe miss our return train, but then I thought, "Why not?"

My girls mingled with artists, poets, musicians, guests. They talked about philosophy, food, art, and bare feet. They loved every minute, and I was so glad I'd decided to come.

The next day I turned to country things. Killing poison ivy, planting lavender-flower bulbs I'd forgotten since winter in the fridge. With my shovel, I created hopeful spaces in wet earth and dropped in little brown teardrops of life. At night I made popcorn and declared it a movie night. And my girls and I watched an old comedy. Ground Hog Day. And again we laughed.

Sunday came and I slept in. I stayed in bed just long enough to finish the amazingly lyrical The Blind Contessa's New Machine. Then I took the girls to church, then on to their grandparent's house, then off to an outdoor birthday party. The rain stayed away for the first time in a week.

My Youngest went off and played. My Eldest stuck close, wanted to listen to conversations. We talked to a neuroscientist who is also a musician, another musician who has learned how to play every instrument in the orchestra. We talked books, escapades, philosophy, life.

The weekend gave me so many things I could write about. The brown-purple sky, the Norwegian paintings on the wall at the IAM space, tiny little quail eggs, my Youngest playing hide and seek in the night, a red ribbon at my neck to match the red thread in one of the poems I shared, and my Eldest dancing...whirling by the bonfire.

On, In and Around Mondays (which partly means you can post any day and still add a link) is an invitation to write from where you are. Tell us what is on, in, around (over, under, near, by...) you. Feel free to write any which way... compose a tight poem or just ramble for a few paragraphs. But we should feel a sense of place. Would you like to try? Write something 'in place' and add your link below.

If you could kindly link back here when you post, it will create a central meeting place. :)

10 Comments:

I SO wish I could have been in New York with you and your girlies taking in all that beauty! Even hearing about it is giving my muse new words. I think it might be time for an artist's date for this person...

Thanks for the book title. You have eyes to see also. Very inspiring. My student who wrote poetry one year is making a dress out of TIES ( men's)! She worked with a wedding designer. Another student wrote a small book of poems. Have to send you one!

Yes, sometimes we need to just get out of the house. For inspiration. For experience. For living. It surely does sound like a memorable weekend. Mine was quite the opposite. I stayed home all weekend, as a gift to myself. Saturday was gorgeous, the first real summer day, and we sat out by the pool for hours. Reading, napping, eating barbecued ribs.

When I was an English teacher, I quickly learned that my students had nothing to say because they had so few experiences to speak from. That's when I started organizing field trips to the downtown museum and the downtown literary society.

But the really great trips took them out of their comfort zone, like when we sponsored a writing workshop at the juvenile prison and participated alongside the prisoners.

I deal with writers block by never trying to think of something to write about. Instead, I take note of inspiration that comes. Honestly though, I've been out of my writing routine for almost a year. It's getting time to jump back in.